


Wanted Man | Robert MacCready

by pro_synths_and_ghouls



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Partner Betrayal, Partners in Crime, Partners to Lovers, Partnership, Survival, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26926315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pro_synths_and_ghouls/pseuds/pro_synths_and_ghouls
Summary: Millie Delancy hosts one rule in her rough-and-tough world of mercenary work: get paid, and move on. Targets are only remembered by their name, not their story, not their face, and certainly not the reason why someone else wanted them dead. But that way of life quickly comes to bite her where it hurts, causing the reaper himself to search out for Millie in the big, wide apocalyptic wasteland.Robert MacCready soon gets plucked from the VIP to accompany Millie on her travels, and hopefully, find out who exactly put the bounty on the hunter.~~~I know, the summary sucks, but my actual writing is much better. Promise!
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	Wanted Man | Robert MacCready

**Millie Viviette Delaney happened to be a shot of vodka mixed with the bitter taste of Wasteland cigarettes–though most of her friends would seriously disagree on whether or not she was the same person who originated from the desolate regions of the Capital Wasteland.** She’d had barely reached the age of fifteen when she had met John McDonough on the riverfront, with innocent features and hair the shade of warm whiskey. Over the years her skin had darkened to the color of gold, sharpened her eyes, blemished with sunspots upon the bridge of her nose, her chin, somewhat masking the silver scar slashed from her temple to her lips. Her softness had eventually disappeared with her sugar and spice, no longer plump from her safety net, hardened in just the right places with an attitude to match.

Goodneighbor happened to be the only place in the Commonwealth where her arrival was half-expected. Courtesy of the one and only Mayor who happened to be a good and seemingly lifelong friend. The very man full of charisma, charm, now dubbed John  _ Hancock _ despite Millie’s protests when he had found the old threads deep in the Old State House. Now she never saw him without them laced across his shoulders, the tricorn hat, the whole package of a ghoul looking for a little more excitement in his life. As did Millie, but that was for a much later time. 

Millie hadn’t seen John in months, perhaps longer judging from the pink glow of the pipboy laced on her arm. A gift from the vault she emerged from twelve years before. Built by one of the mechanics, Stanley? She never could remember his name, just the lining of his face, his voice, badgering on about headaches and fluorescent lights. The last time she didn’t need to scavenge for food, but oh, how do times change.

Millie missed the gruff in Hancock’s voice the second they departed. The stories of his adventure with Nora kept them up for the majority of the night, idling chatting with one another in the secluded area of his office, chems galore, dust barely settling from their boots when he had started with a tale she couldn’t quite begin to believe. Lighting another cigarette when he had finally finished it off.

“That’s a rather unsatisfying ending,” Millie’s voice had startled him. Crisp and clear like glass, a token from her proper upbringing, the least resemblance of her past life if judged by first impressions.

Hancock had never called it an ending per se, but it was a start in the rather complicated world of Nora and Shaun. The sweetheart from Vault one-eleven had finally found what she was looking for, the whole reason she emerged from the vault with such determination in her eyes two years prior. Hancock had captured that fire the second she stepped in Goodneighbor. It was  _ his _ story arch that had ended, with him now back as Mayor, in person, with a little more spirit back to his walk.

“Could be worse,” Hancock said.

The smoke escaped her nose.  _ No snide comment _ . Hancock had noticed something off about little old Millie since she arrived. As if the edge in her personality vanished in the short time she was in the DC ruins and replaced with the meekness she once carried when they first met. She was young then, hopeful, now the waste had tainted her too coming from her intense eyes. 

“Okay sister, what’s your story?”

“I’m in deep shit.” Millie laughed at her own bluntness, but it wasn’t a laughing matter, not at all. She was in trouble, knee-deep and growing each morning. It was a shocker she had made it back to Hancock’s little slice of heaven in one piece, and even then, she was on the edge whenever someone put their fingers a little too close to their holster.

“Who is it this time?”

“Truthfully, no idea. I just know if I keep switching between these two cities I’m going to find myself face-to-face with a bullet, and this time, I’m not going to make it out.”

“That serious?”

Millie nodded, shaking the ash from her cigarette into a tray. She had her fair share of running through waves of bullets. Hell, everyone did. She hadn’t met a single person whose body hadn't been altered from the world. Scars, burns. There were some close calls when she wandered in the wrong parts of the cities, where super mutants were against her ten to one, raiders readily coming after her spouting threats far worse than death, and even some where her survival really kicked in, and it meant kill or be killed. So far, she won, but she was awaiting the day when suddenly the tables would turn. 

“I need to find out who it is, fast, or else I might not even live past a few more months.”

Hancock had a smidgen of a thought, a previous conversation they had shortly before Nora had opted out from the vault. “Still up for having someone watch your back?” Hancock had only gotten back to Goodneighbor a few weeks ago, but for Millie, he would be willing to leave again to find the son-of-a-bitch who had an itch to want her dead. She was practically the last bit of family he had left.

“No.” 

“Even if I give you a  _ really _ good time?” 

Millie laughed. His light flirting opening up the memories of when they skipped rocks at the river deep near Quincy. Playfully pushing one another in the radiated water before one of those bastard mirelurks scared them back to the mainland, out of breath, laughing at the near brush of death as if their lives were only beginning.  _ Those were good times _ .

“Positive. I’ve got enough to deal with and having you back out there on the streets when a town needs you? I don’t need that kind of attention crawling up my ass.”

“Your loss.”

“Yes indeed-y,” she retorted back, gaining an ounce of laughter coming from Hancock’s throat. He tried to keep the positivity running through his veins, but in truth, he was damn near terrified. There was a chance the next time he’d hear Millie’s sweet name come across his ears it would be in a death notice given to him by a drifter. Half-assed and no shred of pity when he’d hear the gossip of a dear friend thrown like yesterday’s news.

Millie finished off her cigarette, smudging it into the can and going for another before she realized her box was empty. Too bad, but a blessing in disguise. It was beginning to crawl into day, later than she would have preferred, and if she was indeed found on tomorrow’s bounty hunter news, she’d need to get an early start. Fresh out of the sack from Hotel Rexford with a modded gun strapped to her back. Out of the Commonwealth, hell, perhaps off the good ol’ American soil if she found a decent enough boat. 

With grape flavored mentats still soaring through her system, she quickly got the conversation rolling again. “Do you know where I can get a ship?”

***

It would have been a lie if Millie said she didn’t hum the lyrics to “Good Neighbor” every once in a while. Quietly propping her sniper rifle on a rock with the tune stuck on her lips, whispering to herself whenever she reloaded the bullets as a molerat walked unaware of her presence back in the DC ruins. It was how she got through most of the months out in those awful conditions alone, and seeing Magnolia primped on the stage clad in red, she missed those old days. She missed everything. Even with the town smothered in the smells of urine, garbage and rust, it was still home, in some strange, unforgotten way.

Her pip boy said it was close to two pm. A good morning’s rest eased her aching shoulders, and her gun now polished to set back into the wastes. Kl-E-O, the touchy merchant down at  _ Killed or be Killed _ downright terrified Millie. If not the sheer robotics molding her form, then the way she talked, threatened, it sent the very chills coating her back whenever she was forced to interact with her. But damn it, that robot knew what she was doing when it came to advanced weaponry. Almost to absolute perfection, she might have added. Recalibrated, remodeled, shining with a new scope and a fresh pack of shotgun shells to go along with it. She would have been thrilled if half her caps hadn’t disappeared in exchange.

Now the rest would soon disappear, with Whitechapel Charlie aiding in to her other addictions and giving her a drink the second she took a seat at the bar. Know-how since Millie’s tab was instructed to always be open in case of her arrival. With a few beers, a bottle of whiskey, sometimes bourbon if she felt up to it. It would have been a party, but alas, she had only shown up for one thing, and one thing only.

“I’m sorry for not dropping by earlier,” Millie said, trying to brush off the idea that it had been a fair amount of time since she had last seen Magnolia ruling upon that stage. With a voice reminiscent of velvet, silk, fabric Millie had only dreamed about in her most dazed states.

Magnolia had grown a bit distant as the years split, but she was still the same tempered, flattering woman Millie had grown to appreciate. “Hancock mentioned you had come back.”

“For only a few days.”

_ Lies _ . She was leaving as soon as she felt it was clear. Magnolia would have chopped her head clean off if she didn’t have at least the decency to give an apology for her most recent disappearance. Magnolia loved hearing Millie’s comments on the songs, sometimes even helping her write the pieces to rhyme or to follow a specific tune. Now, she’d have to coat in a farewell too, somewhere in the mess of explanations and half-wit comments.

“I understand, you’ve come to be a busy woman these past few years. Say, how about a drink for old times?”

Millie eyed her beer, her legs thumping underneath the table in rapid, anxious movements. “Why not?”

It was only a few spare seconds. Millie had gurgled all but an inch of her drink and set it to the side for Charlie to take back, not quite feeling the buzz like she used to. Magnolia, however, sipped a small glass of whiskey as if it was fine water chilled to perfection, and not a warm blast of the long forgotten past. Magnolia bore an elegance Millie never quite grasped, no matter how many hours the two of them had spent together in that very bar. They spoke nonchalantly, passing the time with light conversations and a feeling this was going to be their last.

Even Magnolia could feel the tension, Millie’s ticks as she tried to drink her next beer slower.

Mille had only but popped the cap, getting a clear eye of Hancock coming into view, with a bag the two girl’s all but recognized very well. Cloth, dipped in crimson and tied with a neat leather string. Sloshing with the clanks of caps, ripe for the taking, and one of the few ways Hancock could spark Millie’s attention. Curiosity overwhelmed her, and the smashing of it against the bar table did nothing but intrigue the both of them furthermore.

“This can solve deep shit,” Hancock said, turning to Millie who had all but forgotten last night’s conversation.

“Come again?” 

“You don’t want me, that’s fine, but I know someone who would be willing to tag along if given the right amount of caps.”

Millie groaned, “no thanks. I told you I don’t need someone else tagging behind me.” Specifically, she  _ wouldn’t _ want someone following her around. They were a liability out on the roads. Either a new target for the other hunters to gain a few extra caps from, a proper intro to headshot bounties, or the type where she’d need to sleep with one eye open at all times. She had experienced all three before, and another would just add to the ever-growing list of bodies she kept in her head. “Keep them for your own sake, I don’t need anyone where I’m going.”

Magnolia caught those last few words, “where  _ are _ you going?”

“An island, probably. We’ll see how fast I can get a boat.”

“You’re not going to need a boat,” Hancock interjected, pushing the bag of caps towards Millie, “VIP room behind me, there’s someone in there who I think you’d be happy to have tagging along.”

Millie smiled but hesitantly shoved the caps back to him, despite them calling her name. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“For me?”

“Definitely not.”

“Even if I throw in some jet?”

“I don’t even like jet.” 

Even though Hancock had lost a generous amount of his facial reflexes, Millie could catch the whiff of discontent radiating from his pores. She’d have a better chance of making a Deathclaw follow her ideals, and now, when the time was of the essence, she had little to spare in fighting pity battles. Especially with Hancock, who had as much stubbornness as a pack brahmin.

“Inform me of your  _ wisdom _ ” Millie gestured, gaining a snarky smile from Hancock in return. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I always get real nervous when I post new chapters, so kudos and comments are very much appreciated, especially if it involves critiquing. 
> 
> Much love!
> 
> -NC


End file.
